Eternal Dawn: The Deleted Scenes
by Lizbit
Summary: A series of one-shots that I chose to omit for one reason or another from my main story, Eternal Dawn. Before reading these, I strongly recommend you to read it. It is a Breaking Dawn Alternate, and Edward & Bella story.
1. Garlic and Holy Water

_**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight.**_

_**A/N: This is a series of one-shots that for one reason or another, I chose not to include in my final version of 'Eternal Dawn.' If you haven't read it, I **__**strongly**__** recommend you to read it first, or else this one-shots will have very little meaning for you. Just click on my name, and you can find 'Eternal Dawn' there.**_

_**For those of you who **__**are**__** familiar with my story, judging by the title, I'm sure you can guess what scene this is. It takes place after Charlie's phone call with Bella in Chapter 36, "When it Rains." She has already had a bad day, discovering what Edward's mission really is (to kill Jacob), and Charlie's phone call is just the cherry on her day. She runs, knowing Jacob and Edward's situation is more dire than Charlie's coming. This scene is what happens when Charlie arrives in Sweet Home. Hope you enjoy! **_

* * *

**GARLIC AND HOLY WATER**

A six hour drive would be of long enough duration to clear anybody's head. However, put a level-headed man in a precarious position, torture him for a few months, and proceed to rip his heart out through his throat, and we're talking about a whole other ball game. For Charlie, he had just about had enough.

Hastily gathering what supplies he thought he'd need, he jumped into the cruiser and hit the road, a map of Oregon occupying the passenger seat beside him.

At first, his mood had been nothing short of a fiery rage. He wasn't sure if it was the knowledge of having finally tracked her down, or hearing her voice for the first time in over a year that now allowed him to be so angry. If that indeed was the reason, he knew he had a right to be furious. And he was. Very.

That is, until he had driven nearly two hours, and reached the outskirts of Aberdeen. By then, the burning storm inside of him had mellowed to a sizzle, and his mind was left to wander. Like all victims of circumstance, he had begun to blame himself. Had he _**said**_ something to her that fateful day, making her want to run? It had been a normal day, seemingly like any other. No fights, no misunderstanding. He couldn't think of anything that would make her take off like that, with only a handful of email declaring she was still alive.

And then, like so many times before, knowing that it was not _**himself**_ to blame for the situation, promptly became outraged again, gritting his teeth and strangling the steering wheel.

_What the hell had she been thinking?! _Since the beginning he questioned her story about travelling all over Europe. Something just didn't seem right about it. The letters he had received just didn't seem like her... He knew something had been wrong then, but it seemed that no matter how be begged for her to come home, the same unfeeling response quickly followed. She had other places to be. More important places. Glamourous people to meet. Exciting things to see and do. Nothing like Forks.

Again, it made him sad. He felt like he had truly lost her.

It wasn't until June that he had finally had enough. He had known that whatever forces keeping his daughter from him, he must fight on and face it if he were to have any contact with her ever again. He had to fight fire with fire. It was at this time that he began policing his own daughter.

He didn't know why, but he knew she was in America. For months now, her emails sang of a different tune. They seemed more 'her.' Whether it was that gut instinct that drove him forward, he didn't know. But he made a decision, and stuck with it.

In fact, it was Dr. Cullen he searched for, not Bella. The fabricated story the hospital told him came to nothing. Instead, he used his skills and expertise, contacting every hospital in every state, one at a time. He began with A. Alabama. By the time he had reached 'O', he had just about given up hope. But, when the receptionist at a hospital in Corvallis confirmed that there _**was**_ a Dr. Carlisle Cullen working there, he knew he had hit the proverbial jackpot.

From there, it was easy to get the doctor's home phone number, as well as an address. With a shaking hand, he dialled.

And after all was said and done, Bella was there. After all this time of confusion and unease, she was still alive. And close. Just six hours away.

Now, as he drove toward her, his emotions continued to go through a staggering variety of flux. One minute he would be ready to spit fire. The next, worried what sort of sick and twisted cult she had fallen prey to. Had he been a better father, he would have insisted she stay away from the Cullen boy. After what had happened previously, her running after him and falling through a window, Charlie knew one thing about him. He was trouble.

And now there was this bizarre new twist that Billy mentioned. Talk about your fighting fire with fire! The old friends hadn't had a row like that in over forty years. And what would come out of it in the end? Before, Charlie would have thought a plate of fish-fry and a bottle of beer. Say the word _**'vampire'**_, and it changes things.

Six hours passed all too quickly for a man seemingly in a rush. He still wasn't sure what he would do when he got there. After all, Bella was of age. Legal. No longer a minor. She could stay with the wackos if she wanted, and he wouldn't have a say. He couldn't force her to come with him. He knew he had no legal right. But he wouldn't let _**that**_ stop him from seeing her; from getting an explanation.

As he pulled up to the large old house with its wrap-around porch, he double and triple checked the address. This was the place, alright.

Grabbing the bag off the floor, he rummaged through, looking for his supplies. He could not help but feel supremely idiotic about one item in particular. A long string of garlic cloves which he had tied into a ring forming a necklace. Slipping it over his head, the papery-skin of the garlic chafed against his neck. He felt very nearly as stupid as he knew he looked. All the same, two things prevented him from taking it off.

One, it had been _**Billy**_ who had said it to him. There had been no joke in his eyes, no teasing laugh. He spat out the word as though merely saying it brought a foul taste in his mouth. He had meant it.

Secondly, Bella hadn't denied it. He asked her, fairly straightforwardly, and yet, she didn't say, 'Dad, are you crazy?!'. She had gasped, saying she could explain. For real or make-believe, the garlic was staying on.

He climbed out of the car, and checked his gun. The bullet magazine was full. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out a small, green squirt gun. He had felt like a total fool filling it up at the local Catholic church, but like the real gun, it was just a precaution. He slipped it into his left hand jeans pocket, feeling like a ridiculous vampire-fighting cowboy.

The last and final effect he took with him was now clutched lightly in his hand. He didn't have to go rummaging through grocery stores or churches for this. Despite not being overly religious, his mother had given it to Bella at her birth. A small cross, cast in gold. It fit snugly in his hand.

Always the cop, he was making a mental list of everything he saw. Licence plates and make of cars in the driveway. Lights on both upstairs and downstairs. The smell of fresh paint. The new welcome mat by the door. _Someone must be home..._

Inside, Charlie noticed the curtains suddenly move as though caught in a breeze. It struck him as odd, as even outside, the air was cool and still.

Before he could even knock, the door opened, and a familiar face was there to greet him.

"Dr. Cullen," Charlie said stiffly, his eyes sweeping behind the pale man standing before him.

"Chief Swan. Welcome to our home. Please, do come in," Carlisle said with a kind smile, and stepped aside.

Charlie stared warily at the man. Any sane person would've enquired as to why the Chief of Police was wearing a necklace of garlic cloves around his neck. But Carlisle hadn't. In fact, he hadn't even batted an eyelash, a detail which did not escape Charlie's perspicacious eye.

He stepped inside, his hand instinctively moving toward his gun. "Where's Bella? Call her down for me, please. She and I need to have a talk."

Carlisle closed the door, and took a breath as though about to speak. Just then, Esme swept into the room, saving the day. "Chief Swan!" she said brightly. "What an unexpected surprise! We're so happy to see you in Oregon. Was it a long drive?"

Charlie looked upon this new addition to the conversation with distrust. She was as beautiful as she was hospitable, but his senses were on high alert. "Yes, it was," he replied sharply. "Where's Bella?"

Carlisle's aura immediately changed. He became the doctor telling a patient they were about to die. His eyes were sad, and his words soft as he uttered, "I'm very sorry to tell you this, Chief Swan, but Bella isn't here."

"What?" Charlie replied incredulously, his blood pressure rising. "I just spoke to her a few hours ago!"

"If you'll just follow me," Carlisle said, "I'll explain everything to you."

"Like hell you will! Where are you hiding her? _**Bella!**_" Charlie shouted up to the ceiling.

"I assure you, sir, we're doing no such thing. If we can just sit and talk, I'm sure you will..."

But Charlie cut him off. "What, sit around and chat like _**vampires**_? I'm not sure what kind of sick cult you've got going on here, but you can't stop me from seeing my daughter! _**Bella!**_" he called again, this time bolting for the stairs. He ran up them, two at a time, in a desperate attempt to distance himself from Carlisle's hot pursuit. Astonishingly enough, Carlisle did not follow him.

Somewhere, the phone rang, but Charlie barely even heard it, he was so focussed on his duty. Charlie lunged into each bedroom, casting open closet doors in search of her. He continued to call her name, and continued to not receive any response. Upon the third room, he merely stuck his face in, ready to move on, but something pulled him back.

Like a memory, her essence was there in that room. He could smell it. He could smell _**her**_. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, this was her room. Both boy and girl's clothing hung in the closet, and on the dresser, a photo of her with Edward. He picked it up, blinking at the stranger in the picture. It was Bella, but it wasn't. She was different. Pale. Refined. Beautiful. Without a second thought, he slipped the photo into his pocket.

And there, on the floor beside the bed, was something that he did not expect to see. Something that he had thought about for the last five months. Something that always made him wonder...

Reaching down, he picked up the old, tattered copy of _Wuthering Heights_ with a yellow post-it note as a bookmark tucked inside. He'd have known that book anywhere. Everyday after he came home from work, he would go to her room, sit on her bed, and look down at the floor. That book had always been there to greet him. That is, until one day, it vanished. Thinking himself crazy, he actually searched for it, but it was gone.

That is, until now.

She had been there. She had been in Forks all those months ago. Sick of the lies and secrets, outraged for always being pushed aside, kept in the dark, he roared her name.

"Charlie," Carlisle said softly, "she's not here." His sudden appearance startled Charlie to the point of him jumping, dropping both the book and the gold cross. He turned about to see a very apologetic looking man standing in the doorway.

"She's _**my**_ daughter! You can't hide her from me!" Charlie snapped.

Looking down at the tiny glistening cross on the floor, Carlisle bent down and picked it up, holding it out to him. "I swear to God, I would not lie to you."

Horrified, Charlie stared down at Carlisle's hand, awaiting the bolt of lightning or for his hand to burst into flame. When nothing happened, he asked, "Are you, or are you not...a vampire?"

Carlisle brought down his arm, his eyes never wavering from Charlie's fearful face. "I am."

Charlie couldn't think straight, couldn't breathe. He only wanted to find Bella and get the hell out of there, away from the nutbars from the insane asylum, and back to Forks where they belonged. And so, he did what any man taxed to death with an overload of inconceivable nonsense would do. He bolted.

Carlisle moved, giving the pitiful man space in the doorway. Charlie's motions became more erratic, and everyone in the house (and possibly even their close human neighbours) heard the continued hollers for Bella as they became louder and more desperate sounding as each one returned unanswered. Charlie staggered down the stairs, nearly tripping on the second last step. He was again startled to see now three people standing in the living room, Rose and Emmett coming to see what all the commotion was about.

"Woah, there, Charlie! You alright?" Emmett said, going to help him as Charlie gripped onto the bannister for dear life.

"Get away from me!" he hollered, instinctively pulling out his guns. Both of them. Desert Eagle and little plastic squirt gun. It may have looked ridiculous, but no one found it remotely funny. "Stay there! I want to see Bella! Bring her here, NOW!"

"I'll be honest with you, Charlie," Emmett said, holding up his hands, "I would if I could. Ya know? But I can't, 'cus she's not here. Capiche? She's probably somewhere over the Atlantic by now."

"Atlantic?" Charlie repeated, shaking his head, beads of sweat flying off in the process. "What the hell are you talking about?!"

Knowing that there was nothing he could say that Charlie would believe, Emmett reached for his phone in his pocket. "Look, if you don't believe me..."

**BAM!**

Charlie fired both guns at once. The streak of water fell short of the intended target, but the bullet did not. It hit Emmett squarely in the chest, as both Esme and Rosalie let out small surprised shrieks.

His breath caught in his throat, Charlie was shocked at what he had done. Twenty-two years on the job, and not once had he ever had cause to fire his weapon. Now, he had done so on an unarmed man.

Emmett stood there, looking down at his wound. Charlie expected him to keel over, and for the flurry of activity to begin. But, Emmett just stood there, and even went so much as to poke at the hole. "Aw, damn it! I really liked this shirt!"

As Charlie's eyes widened, it was Emmett (who should be dead) looking concerned at his welfare. "Hey, Charlie. Lookin' a little pale, there. You okay?"

Charlie was not okay. It was all too much. He blacked out.

At first, there was nothing. In the aftermath when one passes out, there is no sleep. Only darkness. And, occasionally, voices.

"You gotta admit Bella took it better than him..." a young male voice said.

"Bella discovered the secret herself," a more dignified gentleman replied. "These were hardly ideal circumstances. Reaching into your pocket..."

"I was gonna get my phone! Who'd have thought he would shoot?" the young man's voice replied.

"Like she could pick up the phone anyway, Emmett," a girl's voice replied with a sharp tone to it. "If she's on a plane, she can't use her cell phone."

"Would you two stop it?" a motherly voice said. "He's waking up."

Charlie opened his eyes. At first, he saw nothing but a sea of white, and then realized he was looking at the ceiling. He raised his head, orientating himself. He was lying on a couch, and standing several feet away on the other side of the room were Carlisle and Esme, holding hands. "How are you feeling?" the good doctor enquired.

"Okay," he said, pulling his memories out of the fog. Charlie continued to gaze at his surroundings. The ring of garlic, both guns, and the tiny gold cross were all piled together at arm's reach. "I thought there were four of you?"

"Rosalie and Emmett left. We didn't want you to feel like we were ganging up on you."

"Can I get you something, Charlie?" Esme asked. "I'm afraid we don't keep a lot in storage, but I can make some coffee. Is black alright?"

"Coffee's just fine," Charlie replied, and watched Esme stroll out of the room as gracefully as he had ever seen a woman move before.

"May I sit?" Carlisle asked, now alone with Charlie.

Pulling himself upright, Charlie replied, "It's your house, isn't it?"

"Thank you."

Now they sat opposite each other, neither sure where to begin.

"Did...did I hurt the boy?" Charlie said, struggling at the thought that he might've killed someone.

"Oh! No," Carlisle said with a gentle smile. "Emmett's fine."

"But...how can that be? I shot him. He wasn't more than ten feet away from me."

"We are...stronger than you might think. Don't worry. You didn't hurt him."

"So...you all are really...vampires, then?" Charlie stared at him earnestly.

"We are."

"Even Edward?"

"Yes."

Charlie's next question seemed attached to his lips, not wanting to be asked. But all the same, he had to know. One way or another, he needed the truth.

"And...Bella?"

Carlisle had always known this day would come. He had felt the connection between father and daughter since the accident with the truck. "Yes, Bella, too."

So, that was it, then. That was the secret that she had long been hiding. It all made perfect sense now. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out the picture of her with Edward. He looked the same as he always had. A good-looking kid with an anaemic complexion. But now, so did she.

"Where is she?" Charlie asked, his voice cracking.

At this, Carlisle sighed. There were no easy answers here. As much as he wanted to be frank with Charlie, too much information too soon would just upset him. "Edward's in trouble. She's gone to help."

"Trouble, huh?" Charlie said, his face darkening. "With the law?"

"No, nothing like that. It's...complicated."

Charlie knew there was much more to it than what Carlisle was letting on. He wondered if the vamp thought he couldn't take it. But, judging by how he reacted thus far, he couldn't condemn the man for that thought. "Is she in trouble, too?"

"Strangely, no. For once, Bella is free from getting herself into mischief. Or, as far as I know, she's not."

Looking back down at the picture, he didn't mind saying what was in his heart. He couldn't say it while looking at Carlisle, but he could say it to Bella's picture. "Can't help but feel like she left 'cus she knew I was coming."

Just then, Esme walked in with Charlie's hot cup of coffee. "She was scared," she said, setting it down on the side table, and then taking a seat beside Carlisle. "She worries about your and Renée's reaction. I'm not entirely sure why she left, but I don't think it was because of you."

Charlie nodded his head, not looking the least bit convinced. "So, is it true about the blood?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Carlisle admitted. "As gruesome as it is, it's true. However, our family is different. We feed on animals, not people, and have for a very long time."

"So, the whole 'undead' thing is true?"

Charlie seemed sad, and both Esme and Carlisle knew that he was only thinking of Bella. No one would wish this fate on their child...

"It is true," Carlisle confirmed. "We do not die, unless killed by something as strong as ourselves. We do not sleep. We do not age. We are...frozen in time, forever existing."

"And, can you never go back?" Charlie asked, his heart aching. "Can it be reversed?"

"If there is a way," Carlisle said, "I am not aware of it."

Nodding his head again, Charlie slipped the picture back into his pocket. He picked up his other effects, returning the gun to the holster, and the cross to his pocket. The garlic and Holy water he left behind.

Rising up, he said, "Well, I guess I'd better be going. Long drive back to Forks."

"Would you like to stay?" Esme offered. "You must be tired."

"I'll be alright," Charlie said, nodding his thanks. "Got a lot to think about."

He strode to the door, opened it, and was about to leave when he turned back to Carlisle. He was surprised to see them so close, as he hadn't heard them move. "Can you tell Bella something for me? Tell her...to call me? Tell her...we can make this work..."

"I will," Carlisle replied, and held out his hand.

Staring down at it, Charlie shook it, feeling the cold stone grip in his hand. It chilled him to the bone to think that's what Bella's hand would feel like.

He turned down the walkway, got in the cruiser, and headed back to Forks alone.

* * *

_**A/N: So, what did you think? I chose not to include this scene, and merely have Esme mention it to Edward in passing, because I didn't want to take the attention away from the drama unfolding in Europe between Bella and Edward. **_

_**Right decision? You tell me! **_

_**Enjoyed it despite the case? I'd love to hear your thoughts!**_

_**Please review!**_


	2. Bella the Vampire Slayer

_**Alrighty, this chapter takes place after Chapter 44, "Destiny Calls" where Bella calls her parents. We never saw Renée's reaction to finding out Bella's a vampire, so I thought I'd explore that here. Hope you enjoy!**_

* * *

**BELLA THE VAMPIRE SLAYER**

After his experience in Sweet Home, Charlie seemed to walk around in a daze, his mind turned to other things. It wasn't unusual to find him in a retrospective daze, even at the station. Given Bella's leaving, everyone took pity on him and let him be.

"It's after six, Chief. Not going home?" the receptionist asked, her purse and keys already in her hands.

"Oh! Doris!" Charlie replied, snapping out of his reverie. "Is it? Yeah, I'm going..." He rose up, and turned off the light. Deep down, he knew he just had to get past these ghosts that continued to haunt him. Despite living in a sleepy town where crime usually consisted of kids playing Nicky Nicky Nine Doors, there was still work to be done.

But Doris just looked kindly at the man she had known since the fourth grade, and went on her way.

Charlie went on his way too, wondering how the day had flown so fast, and yet he had gotten so little done. The drive home was equally swift. He seemed to be on autopilot, and upon reaching the street he lived on, even wondered as to how he had gotten there.

Of course, he wasn't sleeping well, and that didn't help matters any. The house just seemed too quiet now. Too empty. He had gotten back into the habit of eating often at the diner, when he wasn't fishing something out of the freezer that couldn't quite be classified as food.

Just going through the motions, he parked the car in the driveway, not even taking a passing glance at the green Ford out front. But, as he strode closer to the house, he heard the fire alarm blaring inside. Not even fumbling for his key, he pushed open the door to hear the shrieking wail, followed closely by swearing, and saw smoke billowing from the kitchen.

Peeking his head around the corner, there stood Renée, madly waving a tea towel at the fire alarm on the ceiling. "Ren?" he asked, reaching up and pressing the button effortlessly. "What the hell are you doing?"

Renée was looking fairly harassed. "I know... Cooking has never been my...strong suit. Bella was..." but her words fell short. "Well, Phil's the cook now."

Charlie's eyes turned to the charred bit of meat on a frying pan, and thought it resembled what used to be pork chops. "Well, you tried. That's all that counts, I guess."

"There's baked potatoes in the oven," she said confidently. "You can't kill a baked potato."

Charlie nodded his head, and thought that she could try and probably succeed.

"So," Renée said, wiping her sweaty brow with the back of her hand. "Any news? Did she call you again?"

"Not yet," he replied, trying not to appear neither worried, nor desperate.

"Me neither. I stayed in all day, just in case she did. Called Phil every hour, despite him insisting that he'll let me know if she does. Then I got worried because I was tying up the phone line..."

"No email?"

"It seemed like I was checking it every two minutes," she went on, looking exhausted. "You?"

"No. Nothing."

They both looked disappointed. Yesterday proved to be the first time they had heard Bella's voice in over a year. She had said she was going to come home. Immediately afterward, Charlie had called Renée, and she took the first flight out to Seattle. Truth be told, she would've driven if she'd had no other way.

"Listen, Ren, there's something I gotta tell you. I didn't want to tell you last night, as I knew you were pretty tired, but this you gotta know."

"Oh God," she replied, her fear quickly grabbing hold of her. "Oh God, Charlie... What is it? Is it Bella? Is she hurt? Is she..._pregnant_?" Renée said, whispering the last word with dramatic flair.

"Just...sit down."

That was possibly the worst thing he could've said, for as she sat down, her eyes immediately began to well with tears.

"What?" he asked, dumbfounded. "Why are you crying? I haven't even said anything yet!"

"She's in trouble, isn't she?" Renée replied, sniffling.

Charlie thought a moment. "Yes..."

"With the law?" she asked, her eyes wide with presumed horror.

Upon this, Charlie thought a moment. Only he knew about the strand of Bella's hair, and its connection to the unsolved murder. He, and he alone. "Not that I know of..."

"Oh," Renée replied, settling down a bit. "Well, what then? How is she in trouble?"

Sitting beside her at the kitchen table, Charlie heaved out a sigh. How to tell? It sounded beyond crazy, and it didn't matter how he said it in his head, he dreaded her reaction. "What do you think of Edward?"

Renée could only blink at him. "Right now what do I think of him? Pretty selfish to be keeping..."

But Charlie quickly cut her off. "No, I mean...physically. What do you think of him physically?"

If Renée had looked at him strangely before, it was nothing to how she eyed him now. Would she dare tell the truth? That just looking at the boy made her think thoughts no woman should? After all, he was dating her daughter, and old enough to be her son! "Good-looking enough, I guess..." she thought it safest to reply.

"Yeah," Charlie replied hurriedly while waving his hand, seemingly anxious to get to the point without outrightly saying it. "But, do you think he looks..._**normal**_?"

Again, Renée stared at him. "I don't think he looks _**abnormal**_, if that's what you mean... Does he have a defect I should know about? A _**tail**_? I've heard of people with tails... Saw an _X-Files_ episode once; scared the crap out of me."

"No, he doesn't have a tail," Charlie said, firmly rubbing his tired-looking eyes. "At least, I hope not." He sighed. This wasn't as easy as he thought. He wondered if he could call Carlisle. Maybe he could break the news to her better...

"Charlie, you're not making any sense, and getting me all upset, talking about tails, and Edward! What does this have to do with Bella?!"

"I didn't mentioned tails!" he said defensively. "You brought it up!"

"Well, you were talking Edward being abnormal, and I didn't know what the heck you meant! I mean, is it _**scars**_? 'Cus if it is, it's hardly his fault!"

"No, no scars..."

"Tattoos?"

Charlie took a deep breath. He'd just have to spit it out. "He's _**dead**_, Ren."

Her eyes grew as wide as saucers, and she immediately put a trembling hand to her mouth. "Oh my God! When? How? Oh, poor Bella! She'll be heartbroken! How did he die?"

Immediately, Charlie realized his mistake. "Well, I don't rightly know," he replied, stumbling.

"Oh no! Oh no..." she said, closing her eyes, and shaking her head. "Poor Bella..."

"Ren, when I said he was _**dead**_," he began, feeling a complete fool, "I didn't exactly mean that he had died _**recently**_."

Renée made a dramatic gasp. "Did Bella _**kill**_ him?!"

"What? No!"

"How long? How long ago did he die?"

"I told you, I don't know!" he said, exasperated. This was coming out all wrong! "Look, he's dead, yes, but the _**undead**_. You know what I mean?"

Blinking at him, she said, "Huh?"

He bit his lip. What did it matter if it sounded crazy? It was the truth. "Edward's a vampire!"

Moments passed in which Renée seemed to study his face. In the end, her own started to shake back and forth, as though she were criticizing him. "It not nice to speak ill of the dead, Charlie. Very disrespectful..."

"What? No! He's dead, yes, but he's still living! Don't you get it? Edward's a _**vampire**_, and so is Bella!"

"Whoa, wait. What?" She thought it amazing how quickly her brain had stopped working.

Sighing and collecting the best words he could muster, Charlie calmly said, "I know it sounds beyond insane, Ren, and if you were telling this to me, I probably wouldn't believe you either, but it's true. He and his whole family are a craven of vampires, and they've sucked Bells into it."

"Coven," she corrected, her voice surprisingly steady. She looked around the room in pensive silence for several minutes, weighing what he had said. At last she looked at him. "But, they just pretend, right?"

"I...don't think so. In fact, I'm pretty sure...not pretenders," he replied, beginning to get weirded out by how calmly she was taking this. When Billy had mentioned the idea to him, he'd been about ready to rip his friend's head off.

"So...like..._**dead**_. Really dead, but walking around? Talking?"

"Yup."

She stared at him. "Get out."

"No, I'm serious."

Her eyes squinted, but she remained eerily as calm. "No way."

"I drove for six hours to their home in Oregon to get her back, but she was already long gone by the time I got there. Met a few of 'em, though. Noticed some things I hadn't before."

"Like what?" she asked, not sure if she really wanted to know.

"They're cold, Ren. Physically, I mean. Personality-wise, they were...strangely nice. But their hands...ice cold. Not normal cold. Dead cold."

"Could just be some freak coincidence..."

"Oh, it's _**freak**_, alright. And believe me, I sure _**wish**_ it was a coincidence."

She swallowed. Hard. "But, you don't think it is."

"No."

"Vampires... Do you have any idea how loony that sounds? What are you going to tell me next? Goblins? Werewolves? Hyena-people?"

"Hey, I'm as in the dark here, as you! All I know is what Billy told me. What he said made me think. It took a couple of months, but I tracked 'em down. I showed up at their house a ridiculous spectacle, and you know what? They admitted to it, Ren. Believe me, I only wish this was a nightmare..."

For the first time since February when she had been sick as a dog with food poisoning, she felt like she was about to vomit all over the cracked linoleum floor.

"Here. See for yourself," Charlie said, pushing something across the table at her. Gazing down, she saw a photograph. Picking it up, her breath caught in her throat, and it felt as though her heart had just been shot with Novocain.

It was her daughter, but not as she had ever seen her before. She'd have recognized that face anywhere, despite the minor alterations. It was as though Bella had grown up, and was no longer the youngster she once had been. She looked...womanly.

And dead. She also looked very dead.

"And...the blood?" Renée asked, her voice barely a whisper, it was so filled with dread.

"True, so they say."

"Dead? For real, dead?"

"Yup. And they never sleep, which struck me as strange. Makes me wonder where that whole coffin rumour got started."

Renée shuddered at the thought of seeing her daughter in a coffin, alive, but dead at the same time. Exhaling deeply, she seemed to crumble neath the weight of so much sorrow. "Our poor daughter," she whispered, barely an audible hiss. Openly she wept, and she felt his hand reach out, taking hers. He had never been one to talk of feelings, or open up. To show emotion, to let someone in would be a sign of weakness. But now, so tied together as they were in their grief, they had no shame in sharing each other's tears.

Who knows how long they would've stayed there, possibly well into the dark, not bothering to turn on a light. But, they heard the crisp sound of car doors slamming shut, and instinctively, they knew they had a caller.

Wiping their eyes, and trying to look halfway presentable, together they strode to the front door, still open from airing out Renée's attempt to cooking dinner.

There was Billy sitting in his wheelchair, a young handsome man standing behind him, his face pensive and solemn. For a fleeting moment, Charlie thought it was Jacob, only to realize in the last second that it wasn't.

"Billy," Charlie said, stiffly. It had been many long months since the two friends had seen each other. Not since the eye opening day of the argument. After that, Charlie hadn't returned Billy's calls, and in time, the phone had stopped ringing.

"Charlie. Ren, good to see you," Billy replied, smiling at the lady.

"Hey, Charlie," Renée replied, studying the strangeness between the two. "It's been a long time. This your boy?"

"Oh, no," Billy replied, not being able to mask the sadness in his voice. "This here's Quil. He helps me out from time to time. Comes to visit me. Hope you don't mind, Charlie, us popping in like this."

"Not at all," Charlie replied to the dirt, edging it with his shoe.

"Thought it best to bury the hatchet," Billy continued on as though Charlie hadn't said anything.

It was obvious to Renée that whatever had gone on between them, they were both now sorry for it. "How 'bout you both come in? I'm afraid I've ruined dinner, but..."

"Oh, dinner's on me!" Billy replied, his face suddenly glowing at the invitation. "Got a good ol' plate of fish fry and some cold beer. What do ya say, Charlie?"

Looking sheepishly at his friend, knowing full well that he had three pairs of eyes on him, he replied, "Well, c'mon in then, while it's warm and the beer's still cold."

Billy grinned for the first time in months, and felt elated to be welcomed back into a house he feared he'd never set back into again. Their past confrontation had hit him hard. No Jacob. No Charlie. Quil was the only one paying him consistent visits these days. It was pretty clear he missed Jacob almost as much as Billy did. In the end, it had been Quil's constant nagging that drove Billy there that day. It just seemed time to forgive past wrongs, and move on with life.

Charlie took the bag of fish fry from his friend, only to have it taken from him by Renée. One thing she was certain: she could handle a microwave. After pushing Billy inside, Quil disappeared out the front door, heading back to the car to fetch the brewskies.

Now alone, Charlie and Billy cleared their throats, avoided each other's gaze, and searched their minds for something half decent to say.

"How's the fishing lately?" Charlie said at last, thinking it harmless enough.

"Pulled a seven pound trout out of the lake the other day."

"Seven pounds?" Charlie repeated, his left eyebrow raised.

"Yup." Silence ensued again, though it was far from comfortable. "You go fishing much?"

"Not since..." but Charlie let the sentence die in his mouth. No sense bringing up bad feelings. "Not much this summer, no."

Billy nodded his head, and thought he'd take a risk. Didn't hurt nothing. "I'm going out in the boat this Saturday. If you want, there's room."

Charlie looked away, uncomfortable. He had actually felt his heart swell in his chest. "Sounds alright."

Billy nodded his head, and the eavesdropping Quil finally felt that he could go back inside without disturbing anything. The boys had made up, and they could get eating. Man, he was starving! He'd smelled the fish fry cooking an hour ago, and then was forced to sit with it on his lap for the ride over.

"It's ready!" Renée hollered from the kitchen, and wheeling Billy in, the four sat down and ate. They'd even managed to salvage Renée's potatoes.

A few swigs of beer, and Renée felt bold enough to talk some talk. "So, Billy... What's all this stuff about Bella being a vampire?"

Quil's reaction was swift, unfortunately for Charlie, as he had been sitting across from him. He got sprayed with a mouthful of beer. Embarrassed to his fingertips, and gagging on his beer, Quil could only ogle at Renée's abruptness.

Strangely, Billy didn't seem all that surprised. He thumped Quil on the back a couple of times, and then turned to see Charlie wipe himself down with a smoky tea towel. Suddenly, Bill seemed very interested in pushing his food around his plate. After all, his big mouth is what had gotten him in this mess in the first place. The last thing he wanted was to be booted out of his friend's house after they had just set things right. "Whatcha want to know, Ren?"

"Is it true?" Her tender eyes searched his face.

"Understand," Billy replied, "that this was never my secret to tell, and that by doing so, I've put my family, my tribe, in a whole heap of trouble. However, it's said now, and I can't change that."

They seemed to wait with baited breath, saying nothing. After a while, he realized that he had yet to answer her question directly. It pained him to say it. "Yeah, Ren. It's true."

"How did you know?" she immediately asked, as though the question had been on her mind a long time. She seemed now the inquisitor, the detective, and not her former husband.

"Jake told me," Billy replied, carefully avoiding Charlie's eyes. "Saw her, he said, some months back. Wasn't too happy about it at first..."

Swallowing her dry throat, and determinedly fighting back tears, she asked, "And, the stories about vampires, are they true? They're...dead?"

Billy could feel the tension emanating from both Renée and Charlie. Treading carefully, he replied, "Carlisle's family's different, I'll be honest with you. They don't feed on people as other vamps do. But, yes, they're dead. You wouldn't think it, but they're pretty good at strolling around like regular people, blending in."

Without warning, Quil's eyes suddenly became dangerously dark. "They'd get away with it, too, if it weren't for the stench," he growled, earning a swift angry glance from Billy. It did the trick. He promptly shut up, but the damage was done.

Charlie zeroed in on it immediately. "What do you mean, the stench?"

Quick to put on a smile, Billy replied, "Oh, you know. Vamps are very sweet smelling. Helps lure their victims in. Gives them a false sense of security. He didn't mean anything by it," he added, giving Quil another warning glance.

It wasn't until nearly midnight that the pickup truck rumbled away into the distance. Abandoning the table and all the dishes on it for much desirable beds and rest, Charlie and Renée both crept up the stairs to their separate bedrooms, and slept soundly into the night. Occasionally, Renée had the odd dream of Bella, surrounded in mist, pale as a ghost, always just beyond reach.

The following day brought with it a surprise for Charlie. He had gone to work, and got a amazing amount of work done. Mending the rift with Billy seemed to have done him wonders, and he thought there might be hope yet for Bella, too.

If, that was, she would just come home. He prayed she would just come back home.

His shift now at an end, he made his way back homeward, and for the first time in over a year, was glad knowing there would be someone there. He handled the loneliness alright. It hadn't driven him stark, raving mad. Not yet, at least. But, one thing he couldn't argue with. He sure did like the company, even if it was just for a short time.

And there he found Renée, sitting on the edge of the sofa, a clipboard and pen in hand as she studied the television as though about to take a test.

"Hey, Ren," he greeted her as he came in, hanging his gun up by the door.

She didn't even look up, she seemed so captivated by what was unfolding on screen. "Hey, Charlie," she replied quietly, her eyes glued to the boob tube.

He finally took a gander, wondering what was so fascinating. Cocking his head to its side, he marvelled at what he saw. "What the heck is that?"

That was the first time Renée glanced up from the television. She looked at Charlie oddly. "That's a vampire."

Charlie, however, looked far from convinced. "No, what show is that?"

"_Buffy the Vampire Slayer,_" she replied. "Luckily Blockbuster had them on rental. I was about to buy, but my God are they expensive!"

"But...what's wrong with his face?" Charlie asked, pointing to the screen, where a bald, fanged vampire, his skin white as snow, stood talking to evil-looking minions. "What's with the bumps?"

"Don't they have bumps?" she asked, surprised.

"I don't think so..." Of course, he wasn't sure. It's not as though the vampires he knew had tried to eat him.

"Not even when they get mad, and...all vampy?"

"I'm pretty sure."

"Huh," Renée replied, turning her attention back to the screen.

Charlie stood there a minute, watching both the show and his ex-wife. "Whatcha writing?"

"Just making notes. Trying to come up with ways to kill them."

"Is there something you want to tell me? Are you planning on killing Bella?"

"No!" she replied incredulously. "But, I had a thought. What if they won't give her back? I thought it'd be good to have a back-up plan."

"Huh," was his turn to reply. "So, whatcha got for weapons?"

"A wooden stake seems to be the most popular," she replied, her pen in hand.

"Somehow, I have doubts about that..."

"Why?"

"They're strong, Ren. I'm not sure a piece of wood would stop 'em."

Disappointed, Renée scratched 'wooden stake' off her list. "Garlic?"

"That one I know for certain. Nope. Doesn't work."

'Garlic' followed the same fate as 'wooden stake.'

"Holy Water?" she asked, her eyes hopeful.

Shaking his head, Charlie replied, "Nope."

Sneering, she continued to scratch. Her list was getting smaller by the minute. "Crucifixes. Surely, crucifixes!"

His memory still fresh, he replied confidently, "Uh uh."

Renée could not help but feel more and more disheartened. "Sunlight?"

"Huh." Charlie was stuck. This was one he did not know about. Would it be wrong for him to call up Carlisle and ask, knowing that he secretly planned to use it against him if need be? "Don't know about sunlight."

Happily, Renée circled the last remaining item on her list. "Oh! What about bullets?"

"Uh, trust me," Charlie replied, heading upstairs to change out of his uniform. "Bullets don't work."

That night, they settled down to watch a marathon on Buffy episodes. Renée had to catch Charlie up on the goings on, and one thing he felt for certain. He didn't like this 'Angel' guy one bit...

"But, he has a _**soul**_!" Renée said dreamily. "Hmm... I wonder if Edward has a soul..."

"I wouldn't count on it," Charlie replied darkly.

* * *

**_So, what did you think? I hope you found it amusing. I had a lot of fun writing it! I'm not sure if there are any Buffy fans out there, but I was in love with Buffy way before Twilight was just a glint in Stephenie Meyer's eye. _**

**_I chose not to include this chapter for the same reasons as 'Garlic and Holy Water.' Just too much attention away from Bella and Edward, and I wanted Renee being in Forks to be a surprise._**

**_Another one is already in the works. However, I'm open to suggestions and ideas. What do YOU want to read about? I can't make any promises, but make a suggestion. You never know where it'll get you._**

**_Please let me know what you think when you REVIEW!_**


	3. Torture

**_A/N: Sorry this one has taken me so long to write. I recently discovered The Southern Vampire Mysteries, and between the drama unfolding of Sookie and Bill, and my own losing someone I've loved, it's been very difficult for me to write. I'm not sure how this is going to read, to be honest, just because of those very same reasons. _**

**_A friend, Sobriquet, desired that I write a chapter showing what Edward had been doing after he had bitten and left Bella, between Chapters 3 & 4. Now, I had never really given this much thought or consideration, as the focus was entirely on Bella at the time. _**

**_Thinking about it, though, made me realize I was missing a whole other story here. We all know why Edward left. What we didn't know, was why Edward CAME BACK. This chapter explores what Edward did after he left that night._**

**_Enjoy!_**

* * *

**TORTURE**

Edward knew they were there before they had actually arrived. He ran down the steps at the speed of light, his face contorted in agony. Wearing his jeans and t-shirt, he opened up the door. Despite the inky darkness of night, he could easily see two cars zoom up the long drive, spitting the loose gravel in their wake.

_Edward! Are you listening to me?!_ Alice thought, attempting to scream at him, if only in his brain. But as her keen eyes saw him, she knew her words had made no impact. They had fallen on deaf ears.

Rushing out of the car, they converged onto him, and ominously, Bella's panting breath and anguished screams could be heard from above. It was as though she were being tortured and gang raped on the floor above them, and all were helpless in their aid. Esme, however, merely cast her son a fleeting glance before dashing up the stairs.

"Son," Carlisle said softly, "what happened?"

Edward was beside himself. Eyes turned shamefully downward, he outrightly refused to look anyone in the eye. Feeling thoroughly sick, all he could utter was, "Accident..."

Giving a great huff, Rosalie spat, "Why the drama, Edward? After all, isn't this what Bella wanted?"

In the space of a nanosecond, Edward turned on her. Instantaneously, his eyes became lethally black, his teeth bared and ready. After all, he had already bitten once tonight...

Just as quickly came everyone's reaction. All hands seemed clasped to him, holding him back from attacking his sister. Even Carlisle, usually unwilling to take sides, could not help but say, "Rose is right, Edward. This may not have been what you wanted, but Bella did. The timing isn't perfect, but we can't undo what's been done. After all, we knew it was going to happen anyway."

Alice nodded her head knowingly in agreement. Bella turning into a vampire? That was a vision that had been brewing for a long time. It had not altered since the beginning. No matter how much Edward had denied himself the truth, Bella's turning seemed a certainty.

Now, fate was at their doorstep, and Bella was suffering an unspeakable agony on the second floor.

"Bro?" Emmett said, looking warily at Edward, his unyielding grip on his brother's arm. But Edward seemed poised to attack, his eyes never wavering from Rosalie's face. Secretly, they all wondered if biting Bella had flung him over the deep end.

Their thoughts did not escape him. He thought the very same thing. His face crumpling in misery, he turned away, ruthlessly wrenching free from their extended grasps. He found no warmth there. No consolation. They pitied his suffering, but not what he had done. They had all been resigned to Bella's fate, but not him. Never him.

"Uh oh!" Alice said, starting as though she had received yet another nasty shock. Her eyes immediately turned toward Carlisle. "Charlie. He knows something's wrong. He'll be coming."

"How soon?" Carlisle asked, his thoughts turning once again to the screaming Bella up above them. She would not be easy to hide...

"An hour. Maybe two." Alice replied uncertainly.

Just then, they heard a car ignition turn over. All turning their heads, looking out the door, they saw Edward, driving just as hastily as they had done, but in the opposite direction.

"My car..." Jasper said, a note of woe in his voice as he saw it disappear behind the trees.

"What a chicken-hearted bastard!" Rosalie exclaimed, her voice filled with spite. "_**He**_ makes a mess, and expects _**us**_ to drop everything and clean it up?"

Carlisle turned on her as quickly as Edward had done, but his face remained as calm and smooth as ever. And yet, there was ice in his voice and glare. "All he wanted was for her to have what he would never have. A human life. You dare begrudge him this?"

His words had proven more pointed than a knife. It hit its mark, and now Rose was left to be humbled and miserable, confused by her anger at Bella, for throwing away everything worthwhile, and spiteful at Edward, for letting her.

Knowing his daughter to be on the verge of tearless sobs, he stepped up to her, wrapping her in a fatherly embrace. "He is suffering, Rose."

"When is Edward _**not**_ suffering?" she retorted, still battling the conflicting emotions inside of her.

Being unable to suppress a smile, Carlisle replied, "Even so, accepting this fact was never going to come easy to him. It didn't seem to matter what we said. He'd been determined to fight it; deny it; renounce it. We could all see, but he would not. He should have your pity. Were you to switch places, you would most definitely have his."

But with Rosalie, things were never black or white. She nodded her head, anxious for the conversation to be done with, and strode away, Emmett on her heels.

"Alice," Carlisle replied, "call Edward. Reason with him. He must come back. Bella will have to be moved, even if it's only for an hour. If Charlie's coming, we cannot be found here."

Without a word, Alice flipped open her phone. Speed dial was quick enough, but the phone would only ring, ending in voicemail. "He's not picking up!"

"Keep trying," Carlisle pleaded, halfway up the stairs.

Shaking her head, her thoughts as well as her phone calling out to him, she said, "Pick up, Edward. Please! Pick up..."

Reaching down and pulling it out of his pocket, Edward looked the view screen, and carelessly tossed the phone onto the backseat. No calls. Not now. What was there to say? He already knew he was a monster. He always had. He didn't need them to rub it in. And if not that, he didn't need them to lie and say everything would be alright. It never would be. Not now, not ever again. He had betrayed the one thing he had sworn he would never do.

He had finally killed Bella.

At least the human part of her. And what would come in its stead? He couldn't bear to think... It was just too terrible, and his imagination too gruesome.

And so, he drove on and far into the night, not caring where or which way he went. He drove as though on autopilot, not fully registering turning or making decisions. He could only turn over the events in his mind.

She had felt so warm beneath him. So incredible. So...alive. He had never thought he could feel such euphoric satisfaction that lovemaking had brought.

And then, it was all shot to hell.

What had made him do it? He couldn't remember the thought, the decision to bite. He couldn't even remember it coming across his mind... It was as though one moment they were one, the next moment, her blood had filled her mouth.

One moment can change everything. A lot can happen in one moment. Life and death can happen in a simple moment. _Like now_, he thought bitterly, hating himself to the very core. Bella was dying right at that very moment. And it had been _**he**_ who had put her there. Not the lousy, parasitic excuse for a human being Bella had killed that night. Somehow, she had fought him off no trouble. But Edward, whom she had trusted more than any other, he had betrayed her.

He wanted to die right about then.

He drove until he could drive no more. Not because he was tired, or lost. He never got tired, and being lost didn't matter so much. He simply drove until he reached the Pacific Ocean. He could turn left, he could turn right, and he wasn't particularly keen on either option.

He sat on the cold, sandy beach, the sky warming to an azure blue. Dawn was not far off, and in a cloudless sky, he would have nowhere to hide. But at this moment, he really didn't care. All he could do was stare out over that ocean, thinking about all that he had lost that night.

He had been so close to being truly happy. So very close. Their wedding date had been set. It was there, marked on the calendar with a big red circle. The happiest day of his life, within his reach, but just beyond his grasp. Now, it would never be.

Oh, Bella would live, if you can call it living. To exist forever on, never fully living, surviving on the outskirts of humanity, forever frightened of discovery, a slip up...that was no life. Not for what he wanted with Bella, anyway. For her, he would want so much more. He had always known he couldn't offer her much that mattered. Never children. Perhaps growing old together, but certainly not wrinkled and grey. He wasn't really a man, just a _**thing**_ that would pollute her soul, and disease her body. A monster.

He might as well have killed her that first day.

Like an unyielding omen, the sun crested behind him, and he saw its sparking glory glitter off the murky water. It was time for him to go. He could only run so long.

Not wasting any time, he jumped back in his car, and only had to drive a mile before a motel took his notice. It was pretty beat up and ancient looking, being located off what had once been a major highway over fifty years ago. With the interstate now diverted, the street had faded into disrepair, and this seedy motel was no exception. However, for his needs, it was fine enough. He parked the car, and rushed to the office.

Locked. He rang the buzzer.

Again.

And again. Hmm... Perhaps he'd have to find another motel...

"_**Alright!**_" a gruff, angry voice bellowed from within. "I hear you! Hold your damn horses!"

The door swung open, and Edward's eyes befell an elderly man who looked like he'd had several hard lives put together. He hadn't shaved in about a week, and his wrinkled face, sleepy eyes and tousled hair made Edward realize that he must've woken the poor man.

"Please excuse my interruption," Edward said politely, "but I was wondering if you had a room available."

The old man stared at him. Apparently, young kids showing up on his doorstep requesting rooms was not a normal occurrence. "How old are you?" he asked, blinking.

"Old enough," Edward replied, unable to suppress his crooked smile from emerging.

Standing for a minute, sizing him up, the man replied, "Where you from?"

"If you don't have a room," Edward threatened most courteously, "it's no trouble. I can simply..."

"Don't get cocky with me, Sonny! Yeah, I got a room. Hold on..." And with that, he turned and let Edward into the office.

He pulled out the register, not having bothered to switch over to a computer system yet. What's the point, he had always wondered? The damn things became obsolete in two years time anyway, and he wasn't about to go wasting any money on something that a pencil and a piece of paper would do just as well. Damn foolishness...

"Sign here," he ordered, watching Edward's precise scripture being logged into his booklet. Edward noticed that the last person had signed in a week ago. Times were rough. "How much?"

"Twenty-seven cash, and you pay up front," the man snarled, as though expected Edward to run off without paying.

Not batting an eyelash, Edward dug out his wallet and tossed him a fifty. "Keep the change. I don't like to be disturbed." Edward picked up his key with an enormous plastic key chain. The kind so big, you couldn't possibly forget to return it when you checked out, much less hope to fit it in your pocket.

Blinking, the gruff man called out, "Wait a second, boy!" He grabbed the money, and reached under the desk for an old, metal cashbox. Change clinked inside as he set it down on the desk. "I won't be taking no charity, here!"

"Then, consider it a deposit for another night."

"Another night, huh? How long you planning on staying?"

With that question, Edward seemed to falter. His anguish broke through his iron exterior, and he cautiously replied, "I don't quite know. Maybe just tonight." He opened the door, anxious to leave. The sun would crest over the trees soon, and then he'd be exposed. He was afraid the old man might have a heart attack.

"Say," the old man said, suspicious, "what you running from, boy?"

"My name's Edward. And, I'm not running." It was a lie. He had never felt like more of a coward in all of his life. More of a failure. A complete and utter monster.

"If you say so. Roger's my name. Call if you need anything."

"Thanks, Roger," Edward replied, not turning around. And, as quickly as he could, he escaped into his room.

It smelt like musty sheets, the kind you leave in the attic, and can never get to smell right again, but Edward didn't really care. It was dark as a cave with the curtains drawn, and the psychidelic carpet and wallpaper only seemed to take him back in time a few decades. He lay upon the bed, and curled up into a ball.

Even from so far away, he could feel her pain. He knew she was in complete agony. Blood on fire, insufferable torment searing through one's veins and bone, wishing for only it to stop. To die.

Well, she was going to die, and there was nothing he, or anyone else could do about it now.

And, more frightening still, what would she _**become**_?

There had been legends, stories passed down through the grapevine of changes gone wrong. Humans, once kind and honourable, having met their vampire alter-egos, became lost, never to return. The vampire won the battle, and whatever humanity had been there, vanished, just as their life had been whisked away.

What if the same was true for Bella? His worst nightmare come true? He had always suspected he would be her undoing. That he would be her end. He had fought it, but not hard enough. He had tried to stay away once before, but not really. He would've gone back, eventually. He was just too weak. Too weak, and too damn selfish. She _**was**_ heroin to him, and he had to have his fix. No matter what. Regardless for who he hurt, he only wanted one thing. Her.

His way, or the highway.

But, he had been right, hadn't he? He didn't want this life for her... And yet, by staying so close to her, he had only been tempting fate. Had it just been a matter of time until he had done it? Simply a element of days? Minutes? Hours, until he bit her, sucking the very life out of her, ending her beautiful existence?

Monster.

Once a monster, always a monster.

Without even realizing it, the day vanished, and he felt night closing in around him. He needed food. He needed to hunt. He was weak with despair. Just hunt a little while, to keep his strength up.

He had passed some woods a few miles down the road, and so jumping back in his car, he let himself loose into the two hundred acre forest. The pickings were slim, and he had to satisfy himself with rabbits, but they were better than nothing. Ten he caught, barely satisfying him, but it would have to do.

He thought about driving on, not stopping back at the motel, and just heading south. North meant Denali, and he didn't want that. South was equally uninviting, and so he stayed, in limbo at The Shore's Inn. Parking the car, he again passed the office, hearing a TV from within. Behind him, he heard the door open, but he didn't bother turning around. "Hey, kid! Uh, Edward!" Roger called, his napkin tucked into his collar.

Edward stopped. Feeling that to keep walking would only draw unwanted attention, he slowly turned around.

"Still here, are ya?"

Blinking, Edward thought him standing right in front of the old man as proof enough that he was there. "Yes, sir. Still...here."

"Huh. Say, you hungry? I got some chicken in the back."

"Uh, no thank you. I...just ate."

"I'm only watching some TV. You're welcome to join me if you like."

Edward really hadn't given much thought to how he'd be occupying his night. Although wallowing in misery in his mouldy smelling room did sound slightly appealing, so did some company, odd as it was. "Sure. Why not?" he found himself replying, not really sure why.

"C'mon in then," Roger said, waving his arm and leading the way.

The room was small and cramped, and there was really only space enough for two worn out old recliners, a small table in between, and a beat up old TV against the wall. Roger seemed to like his TV, however, because he didn't seem to mind shelling out for satellite. _Jeopardy_ was on, and Roger hunkered down in the tan recliner on Edward's right, hastily putting his feet up.

"Wanna beer?" he asked casually, picking up one from the table beside him, only to immediately have second thoughts. "Wait, how old are you?"

This was one moment when Edward was actually thankful he looked young. It would mean a lot less unpleasant heaving later on. "Too young, I'm afraid, but thank you for the consideration."

Roger couldn't help but stare at the boy. "Something else, then? A coke?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you."

Nodding his head twice, Roger turned his attention back to the television, but he kept a wary eye on the boy.

For several minutes they watched in silence, neither it seemed having much to say in terms of conversation. In the end, Alex Trebek had asked a clue, for which Roger spat out an answer. "Andrew Johnson!"

One of the contestants buzzed and gave the same answer, but was incorrect. Roger swore under his breath.

"Hannibal Hamlin," Edward replied quietly, but Roger had clearly heard it. Though old, there was nothing wrong with his hearing.

The buzzer sounded, and smiling, Alex turned to the contestants. "Hannibal Hamlin. Hannibal Hamlin," he repeated. "Dennis, pick again."

Roger, however, was much less interested in the next question, as he was about the boy sitting next to him. Just who was this kid who refused free alcohol, and knew who the governor of Maine was during Lincoln's presidency?

Alex, however, read another clue. "His story, _The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber,_ was first published in Cosmopolitan magazine in 1936."

Edward smiled. "Ernest Hemingway." He still had that magazine, in point of fact.

"Who is...Thurber?" the female contestant replied, much to Alex's dismay. "No, I'm sorry. Ernest Hemingway."

Roger clicked off the TV. He had seen enough. He rounded on Edward. "Kid, just what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm sorry?"

Roger sighed. "You're a smart kid. Got a good education, any idiot could see that. You don't seem the type to me to be throwing it all away for nothing."

Whatever reaction Roger had bet on, it certainly wasn't what happened next.

Edward rose up, his face suddenly clouded and grave. "Thanks for the company. I'd...better go back to my room, now."

He turned to leave, and Roger called out, "Say, I didn't mean nothing by it! It's just...well, you seem too good a kid to be going at this alone. It's a big, bad world out there, and..."

Edward turned around, looking on the verge of screaming at the old man, or bursting out into angry, cries of torment. Walking on the edge of a knife, he replied, "Trust me, Roger, you don't need to tell me how evil this world is. That is something I know all too painfully well."

Roger was stunned into silence. He could only watch Edward stride out of the room, and hear the front door close gently behind him.

He sat there nearly an hour before turning on the television again. He had seen enough misery in life to know real hurt when he saw it. This here boy was surrounded by ghosts. He surely was haunted by something, more than likely a very dark past.

Shaking his head and condemning himself for once again putting his big foot in it, he could only feel badly, and apologize tomorrow.

The night did not pass well for Edward, and nor did the following day. The forecast called for nothing but sunshine and 28 degrees for the next three days. The thought of being cramped in the room for another seventy-two hours nearly drove him stir crazy. But, he couldn't leave. His car remained his escape, but something always prevented him from letting it take him too far.

Why had he run away? It was answered easily enough. The pain had been too much; the betrayal too great; the cut too deep. The thought flashed in his mind that he couldn't live knowing what he had done, but suicide was harder than it seemed. Oh, to be a vampire in the movies, where sunlight was a suicidal vampire's best friend. In reality, it merely made him look like a mystically glittering queen returning from a gay bar.

When the sun had finally set, he escaped his coffin-like room for fresh air and space. He had to eat, had to hunt. The rabbits he had found the day before were far from long-lasting, and again he dove into the woods, this time by foot. He needed to stretch his legs. Ten miles down the road, he discovered a larger deciduous forest, as well as a small herd of deer. Dining to his fill, he wandered the forest until two in the morning, anxious to be out and free for a time.

Roger, he was certain, would long be in his bed. He could safely return to his room by now undetected, surely.

How wrong he was.

Walking up the dark street, the dry pavement beneath his feet, at first he thought nothing appeared odd or out of place. Nothing seemed amiss, until he noticed the office door left open.

Perking up his ears, he listened. Inside came a shuffling sound, as well as a soft moan. Without another thought or inclination, Edward burst into the room. Past the office and living room was Roger's bedroom. Clad in the same wallpaper and furnishings as Edward's room, it was nothing much to look at. What was inescapable, however, was Roger lying on the floor, bleeding.

In such a moment, Edward could only be glad that he had gorged himself, taking three deer. He was full to the point of feeling sick, and so thankfully, the cut on Roger's head only caused a mere purr inside of him, instead of a hungry roar.

"Roger! What happened?" Edward said, bending down. Grabbing an old shirt off the floor, he pressed it to the man's head, being sure not to come in direct contact with the blood.

Aching and slightly disoriented, however, Roger replied, "Damn kids! This is the third break-in in eight weeks!"

"Where's the phone? I'm calling the police."

"What the hell for?" Roger replied, sitting up, and now applying the compress to his own head. "Didn't do nothing the last two times! No, what I need me is..."

Edward waited. "A hospital?"

Irritated, Roger exclaimed, "For this scratch? Hell, don't you think I've had worse than this? No, what I need me is a good...shotgun."

Cracking a smile, Edward rose up, helping the grumbling man to his feet. Roger turned to look in the mirror. He'd seen better, but he'd also seen worse. In the end when it healed, if there was a scar, it would simply blend in with the other scars and wrinkles. He'd heal.

"Anything missing?"

"Cashbox, more than likely," Roger replied, gingerly moving toward the office. The TV had been thrown on the floor, but it looked intact. Looking behind the desk, he saw the empty place where the metal box should have been. "They knew where it was, the bastards! Well, at least there wasn't much in it."

Edward returned the TV to its original position, and turned it on. It flickered a moment, and then appeared normal. Turning it back off, Edward scanned around the room. "The beer from yesterday's gone, too."

"Shit!" Roger exclaimed, stepping into the room. The blood had now stopped oozing down his face. "Not my Heineken!"

"'Fraid so."

"Well, God damn it!" Roger said, seeming angrier about that than anything else. "God damn kids!"

Edward could not help smiling, but didn't take Roger's curses personally. If anything, he would've agreed that kids these days had no respect or interest for the elder generations. Not wanting to seem condescending, he instead said, "Are you sure I can't call the police for you?"

"Naw, I'm alright," Roger said, sitting down in his chair, and gingerly touching his cut.

Edward thought he should leave, but he also wanted to make sure Roger was alright. If the man passed out because of a concussion, he'd ignore the old man's request and call 911. He sat down in the same green recliner from yesterday.

"Say, what are you doing up this time of night? Did they wake you?" Roger asked, as though thinking of it for the first time. He checked his watch. There was a large crack in the glass, but that had happened long before this attack. "It's almost three o'clock!"

"Insomnia," Edward replied, not batting an eyelash. "I was out for a walk, and then noticed the door open."

Roger nodded his head, satisfied.

"Can I get you something? Water?"

But, Roger merely shook his head, a motion which was a mistake. It made his head ache, and he abruptly stopped. "I'll be alright. Say, listen, kid. I'm real sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean you no offense. Life's rough for lots of people. I know some people more than others seem to get the shitty end of the stick. I was...just worried about you, is all. You seem like a good kid. Running away with nowhere to go... Well, it's hard to get your life back together after you do something like that."

Edward sat very still, contemplating Roger's words. For a normal teen, he thought the advice made sense. For him, however, what was there to go back to?

"I can't go back."

"I don't mean to pry, so I ain't gonna ask you what exactly you're running away from. All I'm saying is, things can't be so bad when you look at the big picture."

Edward rose up, and Roger was worried he had again stepped over the line. Young kids these days... If they would only stop and think!

"Your words are kindly meant," Edward replied, much calmer than the day before. "I appreciate your concern, and what you're telling me, but..."

Roger stared at him. He was no fool. "That bad, huh?"

Relieved to be off the hook, Edward replied, "Yeah," with a small sigh.

"You kill somebody?"

That made Edward pause. Had he killed somebody? Was Bella dead? She was in the strictest sense of the word, or at least, she would be tomorrow... "I hurt somebody I love. I...betrayed them."

Roger nodded his head, and the picture became clearer. "Say, listen, kid. How 'bout you stay on another day. We can chat some more if you'd like, and it'd be good to have you around in case those hoodlums come back."

Edward considered a moment. It wasn't as though he had somewhere to go... Pulling out his wallet, he said, "Here's another fifty..."

"No, you hold onto that," Roger said with a dismissing wave of his hand. "It's safer in your pocket than in here, anyway. So, what do ya say we have supper together tomorrow night at six?"

Edward had to deliberate. The warm August sun did not set until after eight. "How about 8:30? I'm afraid my hours are screwed, and I tend to sleep insomnia off during most of the day."

"8:30 it is, then."

Edward left, and crept back to the sanctity of his decrepit room. In the hours that followed, he found he had much to think about. He teetered back and forth as to his next move. He knew his indecisiveness would only play in his favour. Alice's eyes would be watching. For now, he really wasn't sure where he should go, and so he stayed. _Good luck Alice finding this place_, he thought amusedly while staring at the orange and yellow wallpaper.

He crept out just before dawn, deciding instead to return to the forest rather than be shut off in his room all day. Should people come near, he would hide high in a tree. In reality, he found it relief to be out among nature, in light and fresh air. It felt more...human.

Yet, he felt more edgy than yesterday. His watch ticked forever onward, and with each movement of the hands, he knew time was running out for Bella. Tonight she would die.

And, tonight she would awake.

But, as what? He could remember his awakening so well. The thirst so intense with greedy madness he would've killed his own mother if she had been too close. Now, Bella would be the same as him. Dangerous. Lethal. Evil.

His cold heart ached. He didn't want to see her that way. He had never wanted her to be like him. How she ever could have wanted it was a thought not to be understood! Rose coloured glasses and sparkling skin masked the cold, hard brutality of what he was, vegetarian or not. He hated himself for something he could not control, and was powerless to the need in him.

_She's better off without me_, he thought miserably to himself.

8:30 came, and Edward knocked on Roger's door. He was in a miserable mood, and it showed on his face as the door swung wide.

"Who died?" Roger asked, attempting to liven the situation, but it was the wrong thing to say.

Edward winced. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea tonight, Roger. I'm having a rough night."

"Night's only just begun," Roger replied, starting to worry about the kid. "C'mon in, and you can leave when you please." He turned tail, leaving the door open.

Edward stood there a moment, having difficulty deciding what to do next. In the end, the chatter of the TV seemed to ease him into the room, and he shut the door behind him.

Roger watched as he entered the room, and eased himself into the chair. For now, he'd just ignore him. _Wheel of Fortune_ was on, and it blessed them with ambiguous noise for a while, so neither felt they particularly had to speak. It felt good, for both of them.

On and on they watched the shows, just happy with whatever fate brought them next. Game shows turned to sitcoms, which were followed with medical melodramas. Neither cared much for the storylines or characters, but it was something to do, and time away from reality.

At length, and not turning to look at him, Roger asked, "What are your plans, Edward?"

That was just the thing. Edward didn't have any plans. He'd already been there nearly three days, stuck in indecisive limbo. Stay or go? North or south? Go to Bella, stay away from Bella? "I dunno," he replied dully.

"Well now, see, that's your first mistake. A man's gotta know what's ahead of him. Gotta have a plan. As much as I've love to have you stay with me forever, I know you can't. You need to start thinking about your future, not about your past."

"My future?" Edward replied, his brow furrowed.

The show returned after the commercial, but Edward had already stopped watching it. Future. What future was there to be had without Bella? It was as bleak and dark as a graveyard in January. He had no future, now. Go back to school? Forget it! Get a job? Too damn young, and he always would be. Roam the earth in endless wandering? Sounded lonely...

Roger didn't say any more, and neither did Edward. They simply watched on until news time, and then Edward rose to leave. Deep down, he knew. It was over. Bella was dead. And a new Bella had arisen...

Hitting the mute button, Roger couldn't help himself anymore. It seemed the hardest words said between the two of them were right before Edward was going to leave. They weren't ones to mince their words, but nor could the kid take too much truth. "A betrayal is a hard thing, Edward. Are you sure she won't forgive you?"

"The question is, can I forgive myself?" Edward said, not leaving, but not turning around to look at the old man.

"Well, that's a hard thing, isn't it? Guilt. It never goes away, you know. It don't seem to matter how many years go by, or what you do. Some things you just can't never forgive yourself for doing or saying. Shit happens, just as the saying goes. Bad things happen to good people. Weren't no different a hundred years ago, and it won't be no different in another hundred years. Can't you cut yourself a break?"

"You don't understand."

"Well, that's true enough. But did you know a mistake I made once cost the lives of fifteen men?"

Edward turned around. Roger's eyes were cold and blue steel, but they also spoke of something else. Regret.

"Danang. '71. Leading my battalion in a red zone, looking for any kind of trouble. I..." His face faltered, and he shook away the memories. They seemed so thick, he might've as well brushed them away with his hand. "I made a mistake. A fatal mistake. I should've known better. I did know better. Fifteen men killed, nine wounded. You want to talk about guilt?"

Edward shook his head. He could feel Roger's pain, see his suffering. But, it wasn't the same thing. He had made a mistake, yes, but this was different. "It's not the same thing."

"You're damn right, it's not the same thing!" Roger said, misunderstanding him. "But I know what it's like to have made mistakes that you can't change. You can't change the past, Edward! But, you sure as hell have to take responsibility for it!"

"No..." Edward said, shaking his head.

"Running away ain't gonna solve a damn thing, and you know it! Whatever you did, your acting this way is only gonna make things worse. People are worried about you. People miss you, and don't you tell me they don't! Whatever you did, I don't care. I don't really want to know, to be honest. A man's regrets are his own damn business, but I'm not going to be scared to tell you the truth. You understand me?"

Edward couldn't take it anymore. Roger's words had hit home, and they were just too painful. Every syllable was already in his head, battling his heart. He knew it all already, but that didn't make it any easier to hear. He did the only thing he knew. He reacted on gut instinct. The same instinct that had save him before, and would save him again.

He bolted.

He jumped in the car, and took off like a shot. East, west, south, he didn't know, and he sure as hell didn't care. It was far and away from everything that continued to haunt him.

And, somewhere, out in the night, there was Bella. Thoughts of her continued to tug on him relentlessly. What was she like? Was she upset that he wasn't there? Did she hate him for betraying her? Would she ever forgive him? Was she a monster, just like her maker?

It was all too terrible, too rough. He drove and drove, only stopping to hunt and get gas. He drove erratically, knowing the farther he went, the longer out of contact with them, the harder Alice would try to discover his whereabouts.

He stopped for obligatory gas. Standing beside the pump, he saw a couple of teenagers having a squabble.

"Shut up!" she yelled, and jumped out of the car, closing it with as bing as slam as she could muster.

"Cara, I'm sorry!" the boy replied, likewise jumping out and running after her. "It was stupid! I don't know what I was thinking!"

"'Not as skinny now?!'" she spat, as he tried to grab hold of her in what, Edward could only assume, was a romantic embrace. Cara, however, was pissed off. "What the hell's that supposed to mean, Brad?! 'Not as skinny now?!'"

Brad looked dumbstruck. Him and his big mouth. "I just meant you look healthier now, that's all, I swear! I love you curvy! I swear to God it wasn't an insult! Please, believe me, Cara. I'm sorry! I need you!"

Cara's eyes were flashing dangerously with contempt, until she felt Edward's unwavering gaze on the scene. Thoroughly creeped out, she instinctively snuggled into her boyfriend's arms for protection.

Edward turned away, and placed the pump back. He got in his car as the kids made up and drove off. But he just sat there.

It seemed crazy to compare the two situations, but they all shared one thing in common. They needed each other. Just as Brad had needed Cara, Edward needed Bella. But, most importantly, right now he knew Bella needed him.

Right or wrong, he shouldn't have ever left. He should've battled it head on, and taken her resenting fury like a man. Instead, he had been a coward, filled with self-persecution and hate. But, Roger had been right. That had not been fair. Running away didn't solve anything. If Bella wanted to tell him off, kill him even, he needed to give her that right.

Surely, he owed her that much, at least.

He started the car, and reached into the back seat for his iPhone. The battery was dead, but as he plugged it in, he noticed he had missed 58 calls, and had 22 messages. He felt stronger now and he had more resolve, but he couldn't bring himself to listen to them just yet. One step at a time. First things first.

Now, where the hell was he? Turning on his GPS, he logged in for home, and was happy to learn he was just over four hours away. Closer than he had thought.

Roger wasn't surprised when he woke up the next morning to find Edward's room empty, and the key outside. He hadn't got the last of the money owed, but he didn't care one bit about that. He only worried for the boy, and hoped he was okay.

Some surprise when about two hours later, a van arrived saying that they had been paid to install a new, fully loaded alarm system. Roger had tried to set them straight, but they insisted it had already been paid for. The person had left a message, however.

_Roger,_

_Words of wisdom. Am going home. Thanks for the good times, and advice._

_Your friend,_

_Edward_

For a tough old man who'd seen darker days than anyone should, he knew when he'd been touched. His rough hand wiped away a lone tear, and he turned around, getting back to business.

* * *

**_A/N: So, what did you think???_**

**_Sorry that it was so angsty and emotional. A rough patch in my life, and Sookie certainly didn't help matters any, but it wasn't her fault!_**

**_PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let me know what you thought, and if you have a scene that you would like to see, let me know? I've already started the next one, called "Felix the Fiend", and will hopefully have it up early next week._**

**PLEASE REVIEW!!!**


End file.
